Manta's Gift

TWENTY-THREE

"As seems to be traditional in these cases," Hesse said as he settled into Faraday's desk chair, "I've got some good news, and some bad news."

"I think the fact that you're here at all probably qualifies as good news," Faraday commented. "It's been almost a month since you last dropped by, you know. I'd just about concluded that Liadof had gotten you shipped back to Earth with the rest of Alpha Shift."

"Actually, the disposition of Alpha Shift is the good news," Hesse said. "After some long and rather serious conversations, my backers in the Five Hundred have convinced Arbiter Liadof to keep them here on Prime for the time being."

"Good," Faraday said. "But they're still under arrest?"

"Well, sort of," Hesse said, his forehead creasing a little. "I know they've been moved out of the brig back to their quarters. I think it's the same kind of house arrest that you're under."

"Have they been formally charged?"

"I don't know," Hesse said. "I don't think so."

"Then how are they being held?" Faraday persisted. "There's a statutory limit as to how long you can hold a prisoner without a formal charge and arraignment."

"Yes, I know," Hesse said. "I think Liadof's gotten around that by putting them on confined suspension of duty, or some such."

"Never heard of it," Faraday rumbled. "Sounds phony."

"Probably is," Hesse agreed. "But you have to look at the bright side. As long as they're not charged, we've got the chance to return their lives and careers to them without anything at all showing up on their official records."

"Meanwhile, they're on forced solitude," Faraday countered. "And without a trial, they'll also never have the chance to clear their names."

"I just said they wouldn't have any marks on their records," Hesse reminded him.

Faraday snorted. "You ever hear of a rumor mill that cared a damn about official records?"

"No, I guess not," Hesse conceded. "I'm sorry, but this was the best I could do."

Faraday waved a hand in resignation, let it fall back into his lap. "If it's the best you could do, then it was the best you could do," he said. "I suppose it could be worse. You said that was the good news?"

"Yes," Hesse said, grimacing. "The bad news is that the faction I represent has lost some of its support in the Five Hundred. That means Liadof and her side have pulled back from the brink, and are reasonably firmly in power again."

Faraday shook his head. "I told you," he said, the words tasting bitter. "Another midsummer cold front. So what's her next move?"

Hesse hesitated. "I'm not really sure," he said. "There are hints and rumors, but she's playing this one very close to the table. What I do know is that she's been having discussions with some of the top Sol/Guard generals. And not just about the Mars protests, either."

An icy chill rolled up along Faraday's back. "She's not considering general martial law, is she?"

"I'm sure she wouldn't do that," Hesse said hastily. "At least, I don't think she would," he amended more slowly. "On the other hand... no. No, that's crazy."

"Your people on Earth better keep an eye on it," Faraday warned, the cold feeling diminishing but not going away. Just how far was this woman willing to go, anyway?

"I'm sure they are," Hesse promised. "But just to be on the safe side, I'll remind them about it this afternoon when I call."

"Good," Faraday said. "I'd hate to wake up some morning and find out the whole System had been betrayed. Especially by people who have been so loud in the past about how much they revere it."

Something like a shadow passed across Hesse's face. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know what you mean."

"So," Faraday said. "The rest of Alpha Shift locked in their rooms, Liadof in power, and Sol/Guard being dragged into deep political conversations. Anything else?"

Hesse shook his head, seeming to shake off some odd mood at the same time. "No, that's about it.

I'm sorry the news couldn't have been better."

"I understand," Faraday said. "I know these political maneuverings can take time. How is Mr.

Beach?"

"Mr. Beach?" Hesse echoed, blinking. "He's fine, as far as I know."

"Is he still with Alpha Shift?"

"I think so," Hesse said. "There's been some shuffling around to fill all the gaps, but I think he's still running Alpha's communications."

"You say 'all the gaps,' " Faraday pointed out. "More than just the three from Alpha Shift?"

"Quite a few more," Hesse conceded. "It seems some of the members of Beta and Gamma Shifts took exception to you being 'removed from active participation,' I think is how Liadof put it. Five of the eight expressed their displeasure firmly enough that they were kicked out into house arrest, too."

"Good for them," Faraday said, smiling tightly. So out of the twelve original Contact Room personnel, only Beach and three others were still working for Liadof. She must be spitting twist fasteners over this one. "I'll bet that put some lumps in her gravy."

"She wasn't fit to be near for two days," Hesse said candidly. "But she's brought in some of her own people since then, and they seem to be coming up to speed reasonably well."

"Maybe, but I'll bet they're not ramping up as well as she thinks they are," Faraday pointed out. "You don't pick up the subtleties of Qanskan language and sociology overnight."

"True," Hesse said. "Though the computer's getting pretty good at sorting out the language stuff, at least."

"What about Manta? Any news?"

"None," Hesse said. "The spy probe's still following the herd, and Mr. Raimey hasn't shown up there since his trial. There has been a fair amount of conversation among the Qanska about the Omega Probe, but it's mostly a rehash of what happened. If any word has come up from the lower levels regarding the Leaders' reaction or intentions, we haven't heard about it."

Faraday nodded. "And nothing about Pranlo or Drusni either, I suppose?"

"No," Hesse said. "Near as we can tell, Drusni's still off recovering in seclusion. No one's seen Pranlo swimming with the herd lately, so we assume he's with her."

"What about their children?"

"The other Breeders and Protectors are watching them." Hesse's lip twitched. "I don't know if it's significant, but I should probably also tell you that Liadof's been making an effort lately to identify exactly which of the children are theirs."

Faraday felt his eyes narrow. "What for?"

"I'm not sure," Hesse said. "But I know she's decided that Drusni is partially to blame for Omega's failure."

"You think she's planning some sort of revenge?"

Hesse shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Not revenge, exactly," he said slowly. "I don't think revenge is ever her primary goal in anything. But she's certainly got an agenda, and I think she'd plow through pretty much anyone to achieve it."

"As we've already seen," Faraday agreed darkly.

"We have?" Hesse asked, frowning.

"Sure," Faraday said. "McCollum, Sprenkle, Milligan, and the other techs. And me."

Hesse's face cleared. "Oh. Right. I thought you were talking about what she's probably been doing in the Five Hundred, and I wondered how you could possibly know what's been going on back there."

"Yes, I imagine there will be a lot of careers made and broken over this," Faraday said, nodding.

"Was there anything else?"

"Nothing I can think of," Hesse said, standing up. "I'll see what we can find out about what Liadof is up to, and get a reading on the current balance of power in the Five Hundred. Oh, and I'll also confirm that all the techs are actually under house arrest and not in the brig."

"Thank you," Faraday said. "I'd appreciate it if you would do what you can to make sure they're as comfortable as possible."

"I'll do that," Hesse promised.

"And see what you can find out about Manta," Faraday added. "I don't like us losing track of him this way."

Hesse shrugged. "Me, neither," he said. "On the other hand, his subvocalization setup should still be functional. If he ever wants to talk to us, he knows how to do it."

"Only if we've got a probe close enough to relay the signal," Faraday reminded him.

"Oh," Hesse said with a grimace. "Right. Well... maybe we can put a few more high-atmosphere probes into service."

"You do that," Faraday said. "And while you're at it, try nudging your backers to insist to Liadof that we locate him."

"I'll try," Hesse said doubtfully. "But frankly, I don't think anybody much cares about him anymore.

Events have passed him by, and I don't think he's likely to be much more of a player in any of this."

Faraday smiled tightly. "Never assume, Mr. Hesse," he said. "Never assume."

The run of dark-purple kachtis floated serenely along, holding stubbornly together in large clumps against the moderate winds of Level Two. Manta floated alongside one of the larger clumps, the sight and smell of it evoking childhood memories. Peaceful memories, for the most part, in stark contrast to the nervousness ripping like a hungry Vuuka through his soul.

Drusni was coming.

Why Pranlo had chosen this spot for their meeting Manta didn't know. Probably because the kachtis made for a good rendezvous point, a place where he could wait for a day or two if necessary and yet the others would still be able to locate him.

Of course, the other side of that was that a run this rich would normally be swarming with children, their parents, and their Protectors. Why this one wasn't was anyone else's guess.

Or maybe not. Manta had already spotted three Vuuka swimming slowly around in the distance.

Clearly, the predators had also figured out that this run would be a good spot to pick up a quick meal, and had therefore staked it out.

So far they had shown remarkable patience, continuing their circling without making any attempt to come closer. But Manta knew that sooner or later they would decide there were no children coming and that they might as well try their luck with a Breeder.

And that point might arrive when Drusni did. If she still looked even marginally impaired, they would probably be on her in a pulse.

He set his jaw firmly. Let them try. If they made as much as a single move toward her, he would personally beat the fins off each and every one of them. Taking slow, deep breaths, he tried to relax.

"Manta?"

And then, suddenly, there she was, swimming a little stiffly toward him at Pranlo's side. Manta threw one last cautioning look at the Vuuka, and swam forward to meet them. Wondering what in the world he was going to say to her.

But the painful awkwardness he feared never even got started. Drusni saw to that. "Manta, it's so good to see you," she said warmly as they came together. "Pranlo told me a little of what happened.

Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Manta assured her. "Thanks to Pranlo, anyway." He reached a fin toward her; hesitated—

She must have noticed his sudden uncertainty. Stretching out with her own fin, she gave his a gentle stroke. "I'm glad he was there when you needed him," she said. "You were certainly there when we needed you."

"Was I?" Manta murmured, the fear and guilt rising in his throats like the taste of blood.

She touched his fin again. "Yes," she repeated, more firmly this time. "You saved all of us. All of us."

Cautiously, afraid to do so but unable to look away, Manta gazed into her eyes. And slowly he realized something he'd somehow missed during the tension and turmoil of their last frantic meeting.

The Drusni he'd grown up with no longer existed. Somehow, while he wasn't paying attention, the clumsy, exuberant, fragile, giddy Youth he'd known had matured into a quieter, stronger, more confident Breeder.

Strong enough to handle the terrible experience he'd inflicted on her. Confident enough to know she could repair any damage that experience might do to her relationships with those she loved.

And honest enough, he realized suddenly, not to lie to him merely out of fear for his feelings. If she said she could handle what had happened, he could trust that she could.

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of guilt and fear beginning to drain from his heart. Yes, he would always carry a measure of pain over what had happened. But never again would it be the kind of debilitating horror that would hover like a line of Vuuka between them. Whatever needed to be worked through, they would work through it together.

The way friends should.

"Pranlo tells me you're doing better, too," he said. "What can I do to help?"

She smiled, some of that younger, grinning Youth peeking through. "You could try to stay out of trouble for a while," she suggested. "It seems like you're always going down to Level Four for long conversations with some Counselor or another. It's getting to be a really bad habit."

"Actually, so far it's always been Counselor Latranesto," Manta said, striving to match her tone. "I think maybe he's been assigned to me permanently."

"Wow," Pranlo said solemnly. "First your own private Protector, now your own private Counselor.

We're mixing with greatness here, Drusni."

"Absolutely," she agreed, laughing. A mature laugh, but again with some of the youthful giggling beneath the surface.

"And don't either of you forget it," Manta said, mock-severely. "So let's have a little respect—"

He broke off. Directly ahead, swimming into view around the far end of the kachtis run, were three Protectors.

Moving slowly in their direction.

"Take it easy," Pranlo said quietly, drifting up beside Manta where he would block the Protectors' view of his markings. "It's not like we're on Level One or something. We're allowed to be here."

"But they're coming toward us," Manta pointed out tensely.

"Relax," Pranlo insisted. "Come on—they can't possibly be looking for you yet. They're probably just checking out the kachtis run for some nearby herd."

"But we should still leave," Drusni said, nudging up beside Manta. "Nice and easy..."

Casually, trying not to make it look too obvious, they began to swim away, sinking slowly down toward Level Three as they went. Pranlo and Drusni stayed between Manta and the Protectors, taking a bite out of the edge and underside of the run every so often to make it look as if the three of them had just finished a meal.

They had cleared the end of the kachtis, and Manta was starting to breathe again, when four more Protectors suddenly dropped in on top of them from inside the run.

The Protectors escorted them down to Level Four, a route Manta had grown painfully familiar with.

At the end of the journey, to his complete lack of surprise, Latranesto was waiting.

What was surprising was the fact that the Counselor was all alone.

They settled in front of him, and for a ninepulse Latranesto eyed them in silence. Then, with a flip of his tails, he gestured to the four Protectors. "Leave us," he ordered.

Silently, they obeyed. Latranesto watched until they were out of sight. Then, he turned his full stare onto Manta. "Well, Manta," he rumbled. "What exactly are we going to do with you?"

"What happened with the human machine wasn't his fault." Drusni spoke up defiantly before Manta could find an answer. "If the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise had listened to all the testimony—"

"Peace, Breeder Druskani," Latranesto cut her off, his eyes flashing briefly in her direction. "The Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise have listened to all the testimony of that incident. And we have considered many facts and thoughts and concerns that you are unfamiliar with. You will therefore remain silent, and you will listen."

Drusni flicked her tails, but obediently closed her mouth. "There's no reason for them to be here, Counselor Latranesto," Manta said, putting all the quiet persuasion into his voice that he could manage. "I'm the one who's been condemned. They're not guilty of any crime."

"Aren't they?" Latranesto countered pointedly. "Interfering in a legal judgment? Helping a Qanska escape proper punishment? Attacking a Protector and a Nurturer of the Qanska—?"

"Wait a pulse," Pranlo cut in, sounding thoroughly puzzled. "How could you know about that? They couldn't have swum that much faster than we did."

"There was no need," Latranesto told him. "There is a way of speaking that is available only to the Wise who swim through Level Eight. They can thump their bellies with their fins, making sounds that travel a great distance. Those who reach that age and size are taught a code through which they can send any message they wish, to anyone else on Level Eight."

"But Protectors and Nurturers can't reach Level Eight," Pranlo said, sounding even more puzzled.

"They don't have to," Manta told him. So the Qanska had their own version of a jungle-drum telegraph system. One more handy little tidbit the humans didn't know about. "They can reach a Counselor on Level Four, who can reach a Leader on Five, who can reach one of the Wise on Six or Seven. He then drops to Level Eight and sends the message, which is relayed as many times as necessary and then sent back up the levels to Counselor Latranesto."

"You understand such things," Latranesto commented approvingly. "And you understand them quickly. That is most gratifying."

"I understand some things, anyway," Manta said. "What I don't see, though, is what's so special about Level Eight. And why haven't I ever heard this thumping before? Surely the sound doesn't travel only on Level Eight."

"But it does," Latranesto said. "Only those of the Wise who are on Level Eight at the time will hear it."

Manta flipped his tails, conceding the point. It was something esoteric about the physics of that level, no doubt. Possibly something having to do with the radiation or magnetic fields down there.

With his business major background, he probably wouldn't be able to figure it out even if Latranesto laid all the facts out for him.

Even if Latranesto knew all the facts, which he probably didn't. "I'll take your word for it," he said.

"We'll have a longer conversation about it someday."

"Yes," Latranesto murmured. "And not only do you understand many things, but you question and gnaw at those you do not. Such curiosity is one of the chief traits of you and your human brothers."

Manta set his jaw. "The humans aren't my brothers," he declared firmly. "Not anymore. Whatever claims they might have had on my loyalty and service were lost forever when they launched that unprovoked attack on Qanskan children."

He straightened himself out to his full length. "I'm a Qanska, Counselor Latranesto. Now, and forever."

The defiant words faded into the silence of the whistling wind. "Perhaps," Latranesto said at last. If he was impressed by Manta's ringing declaration, it didn't show in his voice or expression. "Many of the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise agree. Many others do not."

"Then they're wrong," Drusni said. "I know, better than anyone."

Latranesto's tails twitched. "Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps your eyes are dimmed by friendship and hope."

"Eyes are never dimmed by friendship, Counselor Latranesto," Manta said quietly. "Friendship, love, and loyalty are what enable the eyes and heart to see better."

"Many others do not agree," Latranesto said again. "That was the reason this grand idea was abandoned and you were condemned to exile. Some believe you will always be human in heart and mind, and will forever serve as their agent."

"And I've told you that I won't," Manta repeated. "I wish I knew a way I could prove it to you."

"Do you?" Latranesto countered. "Do you really?"

Manta felt his breath catch in his throats. There had been something in the way the Counselor had said that.... "Yes," he said. "Tell me how."

For another ninepulse Latranesto hesitated. Then, his eyes drifted off into the distance. "Allow me to remember in your presence," he said. "Do you know what first attracted the Qanska to your people, Manta?"

Manta grimaced. "I thought it was you running into Chippawa and Faraday's tether line."

"No," Latranesto said, his tails undulating slowly in deep memory. "It was afterwards, after the Leaders and the Wise had examined them and sent them back to Level One. Our plan was for one of the Protectors to break the skin of the Counselor who carried them, drawing some of her blood. The Vuuka who responded would, we hoped, tear away the rest of the skin that covered their machine and permit them to escape."

Manta thought back over the history of that voyage. "It worked, too," he said.

"Yes," Latranesto said. "And if that had been all that happened, we might never have opened a conversation with your people.

"But it wasn't all. What caught our attention was that the humans inside had already created a plan of their own. It was a method that used a power we had never seen before."

"Fire," Manta murmured.

"That was the word," Latranesto confirmed. "The machine had already shown your people were a race who had methods and abilities far beyond ours."

His eyes suddenly focused on Manta again. "What the plan and the fire showed was that you were a race of problem-solvers."

Manta felt something prickling across his skin. Problem-solvers? "Are you telling me," he asked carefully, "that you have a problem?"

"A very serious problem, Breeder Manta," Latranesto said solemnly. "One which the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise have decided must not be revealed to you."

"I see," Manta murmured. "But you're going to tell me anyway?"

Latranesto twitched his tails. "I am placing my own life between your teeth," he said, his voice heavy with reluctance. "You see, you swim between two opposing winds, Breeder Manta. There are those of the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise who believe you have become truly Qanskan, and have lost all your human abilities. They believe you can't help us. In the other wind are those who believe that you are still human, and that you therefore remain a threat to the Qanska. They believe you won't help us. Both sides thus agree that you must never know the true reason you were asked to come into our world."

"And what about you?" Manta asked. "What do you believe?"

"I believe that you are a unique creature," Latranesto said. "That your loyalties have become Qanskan, but at the same time your mind and abilities remain human."

He lashed his tails again. "And I am prepared to risk my own life on that belief. For if it is revealed that I told you, your same punishment will also fall upon me. Or perhaps something worse."

"I understand," Manta said, a bad feeling beginning to wrap itself around his throats. What in the world could be happening here that would be this serious? "I'll do everything I can to help."

"What's the problem?" Pranlo asked.

Latranesto sent him a startled look, as if his swim through the past had made him forget that he and Manta weren't alone. For a pulse Manta thought he might order the other two away; but with a twitch of his tail, he merely turned back to Manta. Perhaps he realized he'd already said too much. "It's our world, Breeder Manta," he said, waving his fins to encompass the air around them. "Our entire world."

"What's wrong with it?" Manta asked.

Latranesto seemed to sigh. "It's dying."